Dakota (Ch 18)

She was waiting. Waiting for the right time. Her leg was still healing but she was able to get around now. She was driving a rental. She was living out of a hotel. She had nothing to her name. Everything she owned, what little she didn't pack into her Civic, was back in Chicago. She lost it all when the car burned. What didn't burn, was ruined by water. She was living off credit cards. She was delusional. And she was waiting.

She still wanted Jake. She still wanted to get back together. She still thought it could work, that he would forgive her and they would ride back to Chicago and pick up where they left off the day before he left for that business trip. She was living in a fantasy.

The cast on her leg made it itch. She hated that feeling. She remembered it from when she had broken her arm playing softball as a little girl. She had collided with the second basemen and her arm twisted backwards. She hated having a cast then, even if all the kids did sign it and try to encourage her. It itched. She tried to think about other things, to distract herself. She sat at the table eating another restaurant meal. She poked at what was left of her pancakes. She tilted her head back, rolled it around and waited for the crack. The tension released. She licked her forked clean and tried to slide it between her cast and the tender skin of her upper leg. Her attempt failed. She tried to refocus.

Maybe today was the day.

"Hmmmm. I guess I could drive up there."

She spoke louder then she had intended.

"OK, now I look crazy. Why am I talking to myself?"

She grabbed her bag and dug for her keys. She dropped a few crumpled ones, the last of her cash, on the table and headed for the door.

Sitting in the car was uncomfortable. Her leg was so stiff. She had to move the seat back and then she could barely reach the pedals with her right foot. She always felt like she was leaning forward to reach the steering wheel, which made her back hurt. It would be over an hour drive. She had to drive from the Holiday Inn in Pierre. That was the closest hotel to Wessington.

She pulled out on to 14 and headed East. She was getting excited now. She couldn't wait to see him. Things were going to be good. She knew they were. He just needed time. She shouldn't have surprised him the way she did. She realized that now. She should have tried to stay calm. The sheriff didn't seem concerned about the other girl. She should have kept her cool. She shouldn't have freaked out. She wished she would have done it differently. But it'd been over a week. Her leg was feeling better and he should be over it by now. She was going to do it differently this time. This time it was going to be OK. This time they were getting back together. This time.

/ / /

Donny Kahle was doing his job. He was good at it. It showed. Holt knew Kahle was good. He just didn't know how good. It took some time. But Kahle found what he was looking for. Janie Samuels had lived in Panama. And she had lived in Costa Rica. She even spent a week in Belize. Apparently, the Panama Canal was her barrier. She had made it there. Booked an excursion to cross, but she never used the ticket. She was supposed to continue on to Maracaibo, Venezuela. She never showed. She missed the trip, never made it to Venezuela.

Kahle couldn't figure out what had made her turn around. What drove her home? There had to be a reason. Something or someone was pressuring her, motivating her decision. It'd been too long to just decide to drive home.

He couldn't figure out how she crossed borders either. She had a passport from when she was a kid. The entire family had gone to Jamaica on vacation. The family income dropped drastically the following year. The same year Jake left for Chicago. But her passport would have been long expired before she even left Wessington. There was no way border authorities could have missed the childhood photo on the passport. Still, there was nothing recorded about being detained at a border. Not even once, even with all the borders she had crossed.

He tried to keep his mind on what he did know. And where he could go from there. He wanted to sit down and talk to her. He just wanted to ask a few questions. But he knew there was no chance of that happening. He couldn't waltz up and start interrogating her. He needed a clever scenario. She was in rehab. She was two hours away. He needed a plan. Perhaps Holt could help with this. Kahle decided to await Holt's return to the office. They would talk it out there. Then he could get the information he needed from Janie. He could find out why she came home. And why so fast.

He looked back down at his desk. All of the new information lay before him. He had the details of her three rape allegations. The first was from Tijuana. It was withdrawn the next day. She claimed she was too afraid to pursue the case.

The other two were both in Cancun. In the initial claims, Janie had asserted that tourists had raped her. The reports were almost identical. The only difference Kahle noticed was the color of her attackers' hair. The first report listed that the attacker's hair was blond. In the second, it was reddish brown. Both were withdrawn three days after the incidents.

To Kahle, it was clear that she went to Cancun to score some cash working as a pro again. It's what she knew, and for Mexico, it was probably the cleanest place she could have done what she did. Anywhere else, she would have ended up dead. She had some sense. Or so it seemed.

Kahle tried to trace her route in his mind. Los Angeles, murder. Tijuana, fake rape. Cancun, fake rape times two. Belize. Costa Rica. Panama, excursion, retreat to Wessington, South Dakota.

"What am I missing? What else is there? What were you doing Janie?"

He stared at the map. He looked at the booking confirmations from her hotel in Belize.

"This was a vacation from whatever you were doing. You didn't set up shop here. Just passing through. But why here? Why Belize, Janie? If you're running, why use your real name?"

He moved on, followed her path.

"Costa Rica. Alright, why'dya go? Wha'dya do here Janie?"

He picked up the folder for Costa Rica. He opened it and pulled out a few sheets of paper. He thumbed through them. That's when he noticed. The authorities had faxed him information about Janie's time in their country. He had missed it when the fax came in. Or Marge had misplaced it.

"Marge? Marge? Can you come here?"

He called out the door. She stepped softly to the opening and glanced in at him.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Marge, this fax that came in earlier. It was only 2 pages that came?"

"Why, I don't remember Donny."

She paused and concentrated on something that wasn't quite clicking in her mind.

"I gave you everything that came through."

"So there were no more pages? The machine isn't out of paper or anything?"

"No. No sir. I just received another fax. Some Sheriff in Wyoming looking for--"

"That'll do Marge. Thank you."

"Oh, alright sir."

She looked as though she was still focused on finishing her initial thought, but she turned and walked back to her desk.

"How could I have missed this!"

Kahle looked at the fax again. The cover sheet said 'Paginas: 5'. There were only two sheets. He was missing three pages. Maybe they could help solve this puzzle. Maybe they held the key to this mystery.

He picked up the phone and punched in the number with force.